


Mockingbird

by Avanalae



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce needs to sort out his issues, Gen, Jason doesn't die, vigilante!Tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanalae/pseuds/Avanalae
Summary: Batman is out of control. Tim will do anything to help. But everyone has their breaking point.





	1. The Mockingbird Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tries to give Gotham what it needs. And sometimes what it needs is unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted April 2012.

When Tim hears the news, he’s shocked. _Scared_.

_Jason._

The boy had been in an explosion. Nearly beaten to death. Bruce had come up with a suitable lie, but Tim knew. He knew that Jason had been hurt as Robin. He didn’t know how or why or where, but he knew that.

Tim would stop by sometimes when he knew for sure no one was around, just to make sure Jason was okay. He had almost died. And each time Tim saw him alive, his spirits rose a bit more.

But Batman was another issue entirely.

He was sad and angry and Tim _understood._ But Batman shouldn’t be letting it affect him like this. He was becoming reckless and ruthless, starting down a path Tim knows that he never wanted to go down.

So Tim confronts him.

It wasn’t all that difficult. All he had to do was stand on a rooftop in plain sight and wait.

“What are you doing here?” The voice is sudden and terrifying, but Tim manages to not react.

“Batman, sir,” Tim turns to him and looks up pleadingly. “I understand that you’re upset, but… You’re becoming reckless and you nearly _killed_ someone and I’m worried you’re going to pass the point of no return.”

Batman’s frown deepens.

“You need someone at your side. If not Robin, then what about Nightwing?” Tim clenchs his hands, “And if not them, then what about me.”

Tim knows he’ll have to speak quickly because Bruce looks like he’s about to knock him off the roof.

“ _Please_. I’m worried for you. And J-Robin. You can’t continue like this, Batman. You need an anchor.”

“I need no one,” he growls and Tim reaches out but the man is gone.

__

Tim hadn’t expected to be immediately accepted, but the total rejection both hurt and confirmed that he needed to do something. He had taken all those martial arts classes and practiced with numerous weapons. He’s not prepared for everything, but…

He lifts up the uniform he had made himself, using the housekeeper’s sewing machine when she wasn’t here and his own allowance for supplies. It’s a one-piece, black, with a loose green tunic over it. Both are padded and made as strong as possible. He made some gloves out of strong leather. The boots were steel-toed combat boots, customized to be comfortable for him to the greatest extent. The simple domino is red, and he sticks it on after pulling on the rest of his ensemble. The last thing he grabs is a utility belt he made, stuffed with medical supplies, some throwing stars, and some other things. A loop on the side held a length of rope, with a functional grapple on the end. Tim hadn’t gotten too much practice with it, but from what he had done, it was rather trustworthy, if a bit crude.

Tim laughs to himself. Everything about this is a bit crude.

But it works.

Tim waits for Bruce on a rooftop, knowing from his studies that Batman will be patrolling the area tonight. He doesn’t have to wait too long.

“What are you doing.”

It’s a bit annoying how he keeps appearing behind the people he talks to, but Tim understands that it’s a psychological thing.

“I’m here to help.”

“My answer is no.”

Tim turns on his heel and straightens himself, “ _Bruce Wayne_.”

Batman freezes.

“I know. I’ve known for _years_. You, Dick, Jason…  I know it all. I have followed you for years. But I have never told _anyone_.” Tim’s hands clench at his sides and he takes a deep breath, “I am no threat to you. Not to you or your family. I just want to help, Bruce.”

He can practically hear the man’s teeth grinding.

“I’ve trained in martial arts. I know this city. I know its people. I know _you_. I can _help_. _Please let me help._ ” Tim isn’t begging, but the pleading in his voice is unmistakable. “I’m not Robin. I never want to take that title from Jason. But _please_.”

“Go. Home.”

“Bruce-“

“Go. You are no good to me.”

“ _But I can be!”_

Batman growls and strides to the end of the roof, “Go home.”

“No!”

The man jumps off and Tim runs to the edge just in time to see him swinging away. He smacks his fist against the wall.

He’s not useless.

 _He’s not_.

_

Tim sees Batman occasionally, but the man either doesn’t notice him or ignores him. But that’s okay. He’s doing a bit better now, paying more attention to what he’s doing.

And Tim’s actually helping people.

It’s only little things and Tim makes sure to take on only the ones he knows he can manage. He’s tiny and he knows it. So he stops purse-snatchers, some would-be rapists, and teen robbers. Just what he can do.

But the smiles he gets… the occasional gifts of sweets or hugs or even kisses… It makes him so happy. The joy it brings him almost out-weighs what Bruce’s rejection of him does. But even the happy tears and hugs from a girl he saved from a nasty man doesn’t fill the hole in his heart.

One of them asked his name.

“I’m just a Mockingbird.”

_

It’s three weeks after Tim starts patrolling that Jason wakes up. Tim doesn’t visit, but he knows from the news and Bruce’s absence one night and then his return along with Nightwing.

Tim worries, of course, and wants to visit, but he knows that would just cause problems. So instead he watches from afar, doing his best to protect the people in the part of the city that he chose. It took some work, but he managed to find an area Bruce didn’t patrol as often.

After trying to convince the man several more times to take Tim as an apprentice, he gave up. He still tries to help, though. Sometimes he’ll find info about things Batman is doing and leave valuable papers or evidence anonymously in a place for him to find.

_

Tim in no way expects to be confronted by Nightwing and Batman.

But here they are.

They tower above him, even though they’re several feet away. The stern looks are obvious, even with the lenses of their masks in place. His heart flutters and he clasps his hands close to his chest.

“Nightwi-“

“So you’re the one?”

“Huh?” Tim blinks behind his mask.

“You’re the one who’s been stalking us?”

He hasn’t followed Batman since he started doing this, “Not any more…”

“Ah yes. You’re wandering around pretending to be a vigilante.”

The flutters turn into throbs. “I was just-“

Batman speaks up, “What are your intentions. And do not lie to us.”

It’s obvious that Bruce had talked to Dick, informing the other man about him. He of course has no way of knowing what they specifically talked about, but he can only hope that it wasn’t too bad – that not all of their words were aimed at dissecting him.

It’s also getting a bit annoying, having to explain himself repeatedly.

“Look, I told you. I just want to help.”

“That’s not telling us your intentions.”

Tim frowns, “Yes it is! I came to Bru-Batman because he was being reckless. He was gravely injuring people and being extremely reckless! Batman can’t do that! Batman is a symbol of justice. If he becomes skewed, what do you think people will do?”

Bruce growls, “You are not the one to judge that, _Mockingbird_.”

“Why are you calling yourself that, anyway?” Dick crosses his arms.

It’s aggravating that they’re changing the topic – intentionally or not.

“I’m not Robin. I’m just a Mockingbird pretending to be him in hopes that the Bat won’t fall completely.” Tim takes a shuddering sigh, “I’m only here until Robin returns.”

“I don’t need you here. And you say that, but how can we trust you. There is no reason to believe you.”

“But-!” Tim wants to stomp his foot angrily, “There is no reason for you not to believe me! Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson. What do you think I could do with those names? I could get anything. But I haven’t. _Because I haven’t told anyone_. Why won’t you listen?”

“The fact that you know is an even greater reason to distrust you,” Bruce glares, “And you becoming a vigilante won’t help gain our trust.”

“Why can’t you-“

“That’s enough.” Bruce waves his hand, “We have what we came for. If you deviate from what you told us, however, you will be stopped.”

Tim’s heart clenches.

Dick speaks up, “If I ever catch you stalking me, you’re not going to get away with it.”

Tim’s heart shudders.

“Remember what I said, _Mockingbird_.”

They turn and leave, the only traces of them being there is the unsettled dirt and Tim’s aching heart.

He’ll show them.

He’ll succeed.

_

Dick leaves a few days later, but occasionally he stops by during the next few months.

To visit Bruce and Jason.

Tim makes sure he doesn’t appear in the man’s sight.

He doesn’t want to risk it.

_

It’s two months before he knows Jason is up and about, about a week or so into physical therapy.

Tim is stronger now. He’s also managed to upgrade his outfit and equipment by taking things off of criminals he defeated. It’s not the most legal thing to do, but the things he takes are better off in his hands.

More people know Mockingbird, too. Sometimes the people he saves will recognize him and their smiles are even brighter than he remembers.

But that may just be the whole thing about people caring enough to know him.

_

Five months.

And Robin is out on the streets again.

Tim takes breaks from his patrols to make sure he’s doing okay. He doesn’t stay out too long, but that makes sense. He wonders if Jason should be out at all, but he knows the boy’s stubborn so he just is happy that he’s finally doing better.

He’s now well-known among his section of the city. Not well enough that people would start targeting him, but enough that most all of the civilians know him. He’s worked hard to keep it contained enough that it doesn’t escalate, because he is definitely not ready for a nemesis.

He even has some connections among them. A few of the prostitutes that he’s saved like to pet his hair while they tell him what’s happening around town and some random people he saves will give him smiles and snippets of information as thanks.

More often than not now, Tim will go home happier than he ever remembers being.

The rejection is but a shadow now.

_

Then one day Tim finds Jason in his territory. He immediately hides and watches what happens.

Jason knocks down the would-be purse snatcher and hands the purse back to the older woman. She smiles happily and says, “Thank you, Mockingbird!” She then turns and jogs off in the direction of what might be her home.

And Jason’s standing there, shaking. His fist is clenched tightly, making the gauntlets creak. “ _Mockingbird?_ ”

Tim gulps, because he doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

Jason fires his grapple and makes his way to where Tim knows Batman is tonight. Tim follows far behind, quietly and discreetly. Each movement Jason makes is hard and more aggressive than usual. When he lands on a roof and Bruce is there, Tim hides himself while making sure he’s close enough to hear.

“B, who the fuck is ‘Mockingbird.’” Jason’s growl is angry and it scares Tim.

Bruce grunts, “The boy I told you about earlier. He took on a vigilante persona.”

“What?! You mean the guy that tried to replace me?!”

Tim wants to shout. To protest. He never wanted to replace Jason. He just wanted to help Bruce. To help Gotham.

He fights back the tears, knowing they would just bead up under the mask and that would be uncomfortable.

Jason stomps around and yells for a bit more before he and Bruce take off again.

He just wanted to help.

_

 _He just wants to help_.


	2. The Mockingbird Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tries, oh, does he try. But his best is never good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted April 2012.

It’s a bit difficult to breathe with his face buried into the pillow like it is, but Tim can’t bring himself to move. He sniffles lightly and sighs into the soft cloth.

It’s strange, when he thinks back on it. In all of his studies of Bruce Wayne and his family, nothing could have prepared him for the past half year.

It’s been a bit better recently, but whenever he runs into Jason, the boy is all anger and cruel words. Bruce would just stoically ignore or glower at him. Dick always seemed uncomfortable when Tim was near. He had tried to assure the man that he never stalked them as Bruce and Dick, and he never watched anything personal, but nothing seemed to convince the man.

It was disheartening.

But on the positive side, Bruce hadn’t driven him away. Mockingbird was still patrolling the streets. Jason, despite his aggressive personality, had yet to engage Tim in an actual fight. Which was good, because Tim doubted he could ever raise a hand to his role model. Dick is still his cheerful self, so long as Tim isn’t around, and Tim will hide sometimes just to see Dick laughing with Jason. It’s so nice to see them smile again.

Even better, Tim’s so happy to be able to go out and help people as Mockingbird. Maybe he can’t do very much, and he knows he can’t save everyone, but even doing the little he can makes him happy. Though every night he seems to come home with more injuries, they’re not usually too bad but occasionally someone will get in a lucky shot.

Tim rolls a bit and rests his hand on his side, covering the wrapped stab wound.

But still.

He hopes.

Tim falls asleep and dreams of running across the rooftops with Batman and Robin.

_

It’s the middle of the afternoon when it happens.

Tim had been sitting in the library, sitting on the cushioned seat at the bow window and watching the snow fall. The TV that had been playing an old TV show suddenly went to static.

He jumped a bit and turned, just in time to see the Riddler’s face appear on the screen.

“Hello, hello, hello! I have a riddle for you Batman. You see,” he steps away for the camera, showing his arms as they swing to the sides in a grand gesture, “in the spirit of Christmas, I’ve decided to give you all a special gift.”

Tim frowns and moves closer to the TV, abandoning his book on the window seat.

“You will know that I am coming from the jingle of my bell.

But exactly who I am not an easy thing to tell.

Though children should avoid my jolly tune, otherwise they’ll be blown straight to the moon.

Come little Bat, better hurry for it will all end quite soon.”

A countdown then appears on the screen, displaying 60 minutes and then the seconds start ticking away. Tim runs to his room and changes as quickly as he can. It’s turning into evening and the sky is just starting to darken. By the time the countdown stops, it will be fully dark. He needs to hurry.

A bomb.

A freaking bomb.

He’s sure that Batman’s already figured it out, but he wants to try and help.

He needs to.

_

The three of them have split up already, but Tim doesn’t really know why they did. He finds Bruce outside the east mall.

“Batman!”

Bruce pauses, “What do you want, Mockingbird?”

“I saw the broadcast. Why are you here?” Tim is a bit out of breath when he stops in front of the man, his words coming out a little stuttered.

Bruce looks at him like he’s an idiot and that kind of hurts, “The riddle, obviously. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check the place out.”

“But, Bruce! That’s not what-!”

“Go home, Mockingbird. You’ll just get in my way.”

And Batman flies, Tim calling out to him desperately.

_

He’s wrong.

He’s wrong.

Bruce obviously thinks that it has to do with the Santas and their sleighs. It’s a reasonable guess, but it’s wrong!

_

He goes to Dick next.

“Nightwing, please. Batman won’t listen to me. But you are going to the wrong place! It’s not-“

“Look, kid, you need to stop.”

“I- What?” Tim steps back.

“You are just a trouble to us and it’s really annoying how you won’t leave us alone.” Dick snaps, arms crossing. “Now you’re interrupting us when we’re trying to do our jobs and save people.”

“But you’re not-“

“Look, you’re not Batman. I can’t believe you think you-“ he huffs, “Just stop, okay?”

Tim steps forward and lightly grabs Dick’s wrist, “But Dick, you don’t understand, people will die if you don-“

SMACK.

Tim stumbles back, one hand rising to his face. Dick’s hand hesitates in its position, making Tim realize that Dick…

Dick had just back-handed him.

Dick-

Tim presses his hand down, and flinches. I-It hurts.

That really happened.

Dick grimaces, but doesn’t apologize. “Just stay out of our way.”

And he’s gone.

Tim falls to his knees, cradling his face. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s doing, but then he stands, fiercely holding back tears that burn behind his lids. He can’t afford to waste any more time.

He looks at his watch and there are only 15 minutes left. Tim takes off towards where he knows the bomb to be.

Along the way, he adjusts his hand-made com to the right frequency and connects to Jason.

“Robin, it’s Mockingbird. Please, I need you to listen to me-“

There’s not even a noise before he hears the line being disconnected.

He tries three more times, each resulting in the same thing.

He holds back more tears, finally making it to the gate of the school.

He can sort of understand why Bruce didn’t think of it. After all, who thinks of an ice cream truck in winter?

But he knows. Because it’s his school.

A very prestigious school, which has a private ice-cream truck that brings treats to the students. It’s not fully active in winter, which is how he knows someone could manage to get a bomb in there without someone knowing.

There’s also the fact that the tuck is parked in an unusual place.

Tim recalls that there’s a meeting tonight of some of the school’s higher officers and some rather important people. The van is parked right against the windowless wall of the meeting room.

Eight minutes left.

Tim opens the back doors and finds that the Riddler didn’t even bother fully hiding it. He takes a few minutes to try and disarm it, but the bomb is just too big. He doesn’t have time to figure it out.

He looks up and around.

“The river!”

If he can just drive the truck into the river, the explosion will hopefully be contained.

_

It takes him one minute and 23 seconds to hotwire the car. Then he’s in it and driving it towards the river as fast as he can. He can hear the bomb ticking behind him, and his heart throbs in time with it.

It won’t be safe for him to jump out before the truck falls. He’s just not protected enough. So he makes the decision.

There’s no one around, thankfully, so there’s no chance of them getting hurt by his driving or the pending explosion.

Tim gulps.

And then the car is flying.

And it hits the water.

Tim may have blacked out for a second, because his head it throbbing like it crashed against something. He feels slow and heavy, but he holds his breath as best he can and struggles out the open window. He swims as fast as he can, hearing the countdown in his mind.

But he doesn’t even reach the surface before the bomb goes off.

The shockwave rockets through the water, hitting Tim and suddenly all Tim sees is black.

_

Then Tim is coughing, rolling onto his side and hacking up water and blood. He curls up, trying to calm the violent outbursts, clutching at his sides in agony.

Pain.

Painpainpainpain.

It hurts.

Tim looks and sees that he’s missing things. His belt, his boots, most of his tunic… His one piece is nearly in shreds.

He coughs again, the water stinging as it comes up. He gasps and tries to take steady breaths to calm them and the nagging feeling of nausea.

He-

He has his com. It’s tangled in his hair.

Moving slowly, he untangles it and examines it. It was made to be waterproof, and it looks like it worked. He turns it on and hears it connect to an open frequency. One he knows the Bats use.

“Pl-Please,” he coughs, “H-Help… Help me, please…” He wheezes and listens.

And hears the disconnection.

He lies there for a few minutes, just whispering.

“Please…”

“I just…”

“Help…”

…

_

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

But he finally manages to sit up.

He manages to stand.

He… He stares for a bit.

It’s hard to move.

But… He steps forward.

He walks.

Slowly.

But he walks home.

_

Tim makes it home and closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, breathing heavily.

He’s just glad no one’s ever here. He takes slow steps to the stairs, leaving behind bloody footprints.

He’ll have to remember to clean that in the morning.

He falls when he makes it to his bedroom, and crawls on his hands and knees towards the bathroom. It’s easy enough to start the shower from that position, but he has to stand a bit to get into the tub.

The hot water rushing over him is a relief. He curls up under the stream, relishing the warmth.

Somehow he manages to peel off his clothes and grabs the extra washcloth he keeps in the shower. He scrubs at himself, probably harder than he should, but the pain is soothed by the water. He removes what rocks and glass that are stuck in his feet that he can, cleaning all his wounds as best he can.

He’s tired.

So tired.

He doesn’t remember turning off the water or wrapping his wounds.

He just knows that his bed is soft and when he’s wrapped in the covers…

It almost feels like a hug.

_____

_

_____

The three Bats had regrouped and found the Riddler’s hideout.

Busting in, they all freeze at what is before them.

The Riddler is sitting in front of a dozen screens, all repeating the same scene.

Mockingbird.

Tim.

Trying to disarm the bomb in the van.

Hotwiring it.

And driving off in the direction of the river.

One screen has reports of an explosion happening in the river, the water scattered with debris. Some things were found by the river bank, including a ripped section of a green tunic.

The hand-stitched “M” that looks so familiar.

The Riddler spins around and points a finger at them. “YOU-! “

They fall back into fighting positions.

The man pulls at his hair, “You cheaters! Having another little bird hidden away! You were just distractions! That’s bad manners, Batman! You should take care of things like this yourself instead of sending tiny birds in for the job.”

Bruce…

Bruce is stunned.

Dick is staring at the tiny little boy… bravely risking himself to save others.

Jason is conflicted.

Torn between shock and anger.

But they all feel one thing.

Regret.

But none of them bring it up. Bruce grabs Riddler and takes him to the police. Dick and Jason take care of the things in his hideout.

The wrap up and go home afterwards, in silence. Even Dick is quiet, staring at nothing, sometimes in confusion and sometimes in sadness.

Alfred doesn’t ask, but he eyes them like he knows.

And they just feel guiltier.

_

It takes two days before Jason and Dick finally go to Tim’s house.

They stand outside for several minutes before Dick finally lifts his hand to ring the doorbell.

Some time passes and Dick’s about to ring the bell again where there’s a soft click and the door is slowly pulled open.

Tim peeks out at them from the small opening.

From the little that’s shown, they can see bandages. And bruises.

Just so…

“May I help you?”

His eyes.

“T-Tim. It’s… It’s me. Dick.”

Tim’s eyes are cold. Frozen and empty.

The spark that used to be there, when he would look at Jason or Dick… The light that they didn’t realize until now was Tim’s happiness and admiration.

It’s gone.

Some recognition enters beautiful blue eyes and Tim closes the door just a bit and leaves them there waiting.

Jason mutters, “Dick, did you see…?”

“Yeah, little wing. …Yeah.”

They hear Tim’s return, because his steps are a bit heavier. There’s a thump next to the door and it opens again, this time a little wider.

All of Tim is revealed now, and they see the gratuitous bandages on his feet, the bruises on his face, and the stiffness of the boy’s movements. He bends down and slides the box out the door in front of them. 

Tim backs up without acknowledging them again and the door shuts, the lock clicking.

The two older men look down. Jason takes off the lid and they gasp.

What’s left of Tim’s uniform, his extra one, his equipment, and…

They move things a bit.

All of Tim’s photographs of Batman and Robin.

Everything that connected him to them.

Dick stands and starts pounding at the door, “Tim! Timmy, please. Come back!”

Jason stares at a handful of the pictures. He’s not sure what to feel.

“Tim!” Dick pounds harder.

But he never comes back to the door.


	3. The Mockingbird Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim withers like a neglected flower. Until something else comes along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted March 2013.

The days seem to pass in a blur, now.

The walls of the empty house close in on him every night, leaving him insomniac.

There’s hopelessness and despair in his heart, seeking to consume him. Loneliness and emptiness fill his mind and body, rendering him motionless.

He just…

He just doesn’t care any longer.

_

There’s another knock on the door. The fifteenth in three days.

He doesn’t even need to look out the peephole anymore. Each person has a certain way they knock.

Dick’s are quick and they echo loudly, though perhaps that’s just in Tim’s head.

Jason’s are slower and harder, short thuds against the wood.

Alfred’s knocks are short, sharp, and few. Two distinct knocks followed by silence, waiting to see if Tim feels like seeing the man today.

Bruce has never come, so he doesn’t know what his knocks sound like.

This one is obviously Dick.

So Tim curls farther into the couch, cradling __War and Peace__ closer to his chest.

_

The images and words and __desperation__ from that night continue to haunt him.

As does the looming manor that seems so far and yet so close to his own.

The maid has given up on trying to help him.

Not that she could do anything. She was no one special. No one important. Just a shadow of the manor.

He’s ashamed of himself, he thinks once he regains some semblance of emotion aside from emptiness. How could he become like this?

Sure, his role models rejected him, abused him, ignored him, and so on.

But he was used to that.

_

He’d felt like letting in Alfred today, which turned out to be a good idea. The butler was definitely a great man. He didn’t push Tim – he didn’t blame or try to explain or any of that. He just comes, makes sure he’s fully stocked, brings him food, and maybe pats him on the head a few times.

It doesn’t hurt that the food is delicious. He’d always dreamed of eating Alfred’s food, ever since the first time he peeked out of his own home into the windows of the manor and saw Bruce and Dick enjoying some delicious-looking cookies.

He had those cookies, now.

Even if he didn’t have anything else.

_

But, he considers, he had never looked up to or admired anyone in the way he did the bats. So this betrayal would naturally hurt much more.

But they never knew him personally; he would argue to himself, he was never a part of their lives.

None of this helped, though.

He could practically see his mother in his mind, sneering at him for being so weak.

He missed his parents, even though they were never around enough for him to ever get the feeling of “missing them” to go away completely, he still missed them. Just like a good __(lonely)__ son would.

Curled up on his bed, under the sheet and blanket and coverlet… He stares at his wrists.

Stares at the stark contrast between white and blue, indigo lines threading visibly under thin – thinning, paling – skin.

_

He doesn’t know why he did it, but he answered the door that day. There had been a knock but Tim hadn’t been able to distinguish who it was, or if it was even a knock he would have recognized.

He may be sick. But he’s not sure.

So he opened the door.

It was Dick on the other side, with his hand raised as if he was going to start knocking again. Tim stands in the doorway, leaning slightly on the open door, waiting for Dick to gather his composure.

He was obviously shocked that Tim had even answered. He stood, arm raised and mouth gaping, for several moments.

Then Tim coughed.

He’d tried to keep it in, but it had come out anyway and it was painful, making Tim’s face twitch in pain.

Then Dick seemed to snap out of it, “Are you alright?”

Tim breathes in, calming himself, “I am.” He looks up and sees Dick hesitantly reaching out for him.

But he didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want a hug. He just wanted the man to go away. He was just so tired.

“Please stop coming by.”

Dick blinks, “What?”

“Look, I understand that you feel guilty and want to make up for it. And I’ve forgiven you – I know you had your reasons. You’re superheroes after all, and finding out that some kid knows your identities was probably annoying and nerve-wreaking.” Tim has to pause to cough again, holding up a hand to stay any reaction Dick might try to have.

“But I’m very tired,” he looks back to Dick, who’s staring at him like Tim is ripping out his heart. “I tried my best but it was just too much to deal with. And this whole attitude change is very discouraging and upsetting. So please just go back to your life. Go back to Blüdhaven, they still need you.”

Then with one last glance at the devastated face, Tim sidesteps and softly closes the door.

_

His mind continues to wander – wondering, remembering, filled with melancholy and confusion and denial.

He doesn’t want to be here.

He doesn’t want to be anywhere.

His parents only wanted him because they needed an heir. Someone to secure their business.

His role models, the men he looked up to and admired and loved… they don’t want him either. Even if they say they do now, Tim for once will not just ignore what happened in the past. First impressions are everything, after all. His heart was broken and it’s much too late now to fix it.

The only thing….

He blinks and looks up to one of the shelves in the room. The shelf that held the little gifts he had received as he went out as Mockingbird.

He didn’t worry about anyone finding them, because no one but the maid came into his room and she would neither ask nor tell.

He stares at a small, ragged doll – obviously hand-made, probably by a child – a gift from a little girl. She said she made it just for him and he could only accept it while trying not to cry.

He’d never gotten a gift like that before. All of the ones in the past were from catalogs, things sent to him by mail.

That was… such a personal little thing and it had affected him greatly.

He will miss being Mockingbird. He will miss it so much.

But he’s going to be selfish.

He doesn’t want to go out there again and have to face Bruce and the others. He doesn’t want to have to see their faces, their guilty and pitying looks. He doesn’t want to see any of that.

So he had given the two that had come to his door everything. All the weapons he had made, all the outfits and gadgets.

All of the photos.

He gave it all up.

Because he doesn’t want to have anything to do with them.

But that means he has nothing else.

Nothing but the loneliness, the emptiness, and the sadness that have sunk their claws into his heart.

He lets the tears fall for the first time.

_

Tim had withered into a shadow of himself.

But that doesn’t mean he’d stopped being observant.

He notices the shadows that seem to fluctuate. The movements outside the windows that he would never have noticed if he had anything else to do.

It takes a few days to realize what’s going on.

He’s pretty sure it’s ninjas.

Why ninjas would be stalking his house, Tim has no idea, but that’s the only answer he can come up with.

His hypothesis is confirmed when he catches one of them in his kitchen, restocking the refrigerator.

He will admit to staring in confusion as to why a __ninja__ would be doing such a thing.

But then the black-clad man turns and notices him. Instead of fleeing as Tim had expected, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small object. He then extends his hand with it lying in the center of his palm, offering it to Tim.

He’s hesitant to get closer, but he figures that if he’d wanted to kill him, he would be long dead. So he takes a couple steps forward towards the hand, the ninja waiting patiently. He looks and it looks like an earpiece. He glances at the kneeling ninja and the hand rises a bit, silently insisting. So Tim takes it, staring at it curiously.

Tim looks at the ninja again, who taps his ear and points at the device before tapping his ear again. So Tim hesitatingly puts it in his ear and waits as the ninja resumes transferring groceries from the bags to the refrigerator.

“Hello, Timothy.”

To his embarrassment, Tim jumps a good few at the sudden voice in his ear.

The deep chuckle brings a humiliated flush to his cheeks.

“I apologize, Timothy. I did not intend to startle you.”

“Wh-“ Tim’s voice nearly cracks, so he stops and clears his throat before trying again. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ra’s al Ghul. You may call me Ra’s.”


	4. The Mockingbird Transforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim becomes someone else. And is joined by someone else. Someone not entirely appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys, I did it. I updated Mockingbird.  
> *faints*  
> I took this in a direction I don’t think anyone was really expecting, so I’m a little worried. Please go easy on me… TT___TT

“My name is Ra’s al Ghul. You may call me Ra’s.”

_

That was the start of an interesting relationship.

Ra’s was there to help put Tim back on his feet. Tim knew that Ra’s wanted something from him in return, but he couldn’t be sure what. At least for the time being.

But Ra’s trained him. His ninjas gave him lessons in self-defense, though Tim was sure it was exactly 3 different people.

Ra’s himself didn’t come over, explaining that Batman would be none too pleased. But he provided Tim with the latest technology and taught him everything he would need to know.

To become someone other than Mockingbird.

_

Things had become interesting among the villains. People learning things about their rivals and enemies became more and more frequent.

Gang wars were dangerous, as always, but seemed to be focused more on the gangs themselves and not outsiders.

People were spending money left, right, and sideways to get the information they needed.

And the Broker was willing to share.

The villains feared him to some extent, knowing that he knew all their deepest secrets. He had his fingers in every pie, able to bargain with anyone he wanted and whoever was willing to pay. But no one could find information on him. It was like he was a ghost, invisible but all-seeing.

But they knew the Broker himself wasn’t the problem. It was those who bought information from him. If they could, though, they still wouldn’t take him out. After all, who would they get their information from if not from him?

Some didn’t see it that way, though, and wished for him to not exist. But those people were few and not resourced enough to find him.

So, the information war continued.

And the business proved lucrative.

_

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to mentor my grandson.”

“I thought that was what you said. What exactly is your goal, here?”

“That would be telling.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “I’m fourteen, Ra’s. I’m hardly experienced enough to mentor someone.”

“You are too modest, Timothy.”

“I prefer realistic.”

Ra’s hums that deep chuckle of his. “Come now, Timothy. How hard could it be for the Broker to do something like this?”

Tim sighs, knowing there was no way out of this, “Your grandson better be well-behaved.”

_

Tim explained to Ms. Mac that there was a foreign exchange program at school and he’d like to put up one of the children. He’d told his parents that was what he was doing, but they were away and didn’t really care.

She believed him, of course.

The boy was called Damian, and Tim found a quaint juxtaposition between their names. To subdue and to honor. Perhaps it was silly but he found amusement in it.

What he didn’t find amusement in was Damian’s holier-than-thou attitude. It was actually rather exasperating.

…

“You truly are worth nothing more than the sand beneath my boots.”

…

“I don’t know why Grandfather sent me here, you’re worthless.”

…

“Why do I have to listen to you? You’re only fourteen.”

…

“Drake!”

“Hm?”

“Why aren’t you responding to me?!”

“Oh, I don’t have energy to waste on whining children.”

“You-!” Damian clenches his hands into fists and growls.

“What, you really want to tell me everything you’ve been saying today _hasn’t_ been whining?”

Damian growls again and stomps off.

Tim looks back to the computer and sighs. “So, when is the coffee supposed to arrive?”

“In two days. I don’t like that you’re already so dependent on the beverage,” Ra’s says.

“But you know you get me the best coffee. And I can’t be bothered to show a fake ID for some down the street. I still can’t believe that coffee joint carded me.” Tim huffs petulantly, “Their coffee isn’t even that good.”

“Hm,” Ra’s sounds noncommittal.

Tim huffs again, “Oh don’t you start. I’m looking after your progeny and need the stuff.”

“How is that going, by the way?”

“Your daughter raised an entitled brat, but he’s not so bad. He’s probably plotting ways to kill me in my sleep in a way that won’t piss you off, though.”

“Alas, that would never be the case.”

Tim takes a sip of his water, wondering if Ra’s would kill his own grandson if Tim died. It was unlikely.

“Don’t worry your darling little head, Timothy. I won’t allow Damian to kill you.”

For now, he thinks. For now.

_

School was a thing.

A thing that had to happen.

They had established rules. Nothing that would draw the attention of the principal and to keep good marks.

Damian had some issues, adjusting to learning by himself to learning in a class full of children who knew half what he did.

They explained most issues away by the homeschooled excuse. But Damian had to behave himself or it was back home and shamed forever.

It was hard for him, and Tim understood that. So he would keep things at a higher intellectual level at home, in the hopes of continuing to stimulate Damian’s intelligence. Eventually Damian got moved up a few grades and was just one behind Tim. Tim who stayed in the age-appropriate grade so not to draw attention to himself.

But he endured being associated with someone who skipped that many grades because it was his duty.

Not because he was becoming fond of the little brat.

_

Things progressed slowly, but they did eventually change.

Tim took none of Damian’s shit and treated him as an equal at the same time. He never talked down to him and was always perfectly honest.

Today Damian was watching over his shoulder as he debated a deal with Penguin. Quietly, even.

Eventually the silence became too much and Tim paused in what he was doing. He put his hands in his lap and turned his chair to fully face Damian. He looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Are you okay?”

Damian made an odd face, and looked like he was trying not to flush, of all things.

“You’re normally only this silent when something is on your mind.”

Damian makes another face, this one more pained.

Tim goes quiet, waiting to see if Damian would talk.

He ends up waiting a while, but it’s worth the wait.

“Where are your parents?”

Tim blinks and considers, “I think they’re in Guam right now.”

Damian pauses, “Does it never… Do you not get… lonely?”

This. This was a connection waiting to happen. He had to tread carefully.

So Tim took his time. He leaned back in his chair and thought.

“I… Hm. I’ve never had the closest relationship to my parents.” Tim speaks honestly. “As far as I know, they only had me so they would have an heir.”

Damian’s looking at his own lap, but Tim continues.

“I’ve learned to never expect much from them. Even when it comes to their presence.” Tim pauses again, looking to his right. “But…” He closes his eyes, “That doesn’t mean I never get lonely.”

Damian doesn’t look up, so Tim turns back to his work.

“My Father is Batman.”

Tim stops typing, but doesn’t speak.

“Grandfather calls him ‘Detective.’ So why hasn’t he learned of my presence yet?”

“…You already know the answer to that question.”

Damian frowns at his lap. “He has no reason to suspect, I suppose. But…”

Damian doesn’t speak up again, so Tim finishes his sentence.

“But you want him to know.”

There’s silence again.

A few taps on his keyboard later, Tim turns his chair to face Damian once again.

“How badly do you want him to know?”

_

The Broker has a dossier on everyone of importance. If he doesn’t have one, though, he can make one in a reasonable amount of time.

But there’s one thing the underground knows.

No one could afford the Broker’s dossier on Batman. If they could, well…

Their dossier is bound to be discounted.


End file.
